Violence Can End Puppy Cannibalism
by Potato Beilschmidt
Summary: Germany Crack-fic Cuba has news. Germany steps in. Cannibals everywhere! What happens DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT LIKE BRUTAL VIOLENCE, BLOOD, GUTS, GORE, MILD SWEARING, AND DEATH!
1. The Meeting Kicks Off

"To kick off this meeting, I feel that my usual plan of creating a giant hero to protect the Earth should go into effect ASAP!"

"America, two things..." a British voice sighed. "One, please don't speak in acronyms. And two, you bring this up _every meeting!_ Can't you talk about anything else? Something new?!"

Soon, the two voices started bickering. A Frenchman spoke up,  
"Instead of you two constantly fighting, why not show your love for each other?"

The two previous voices quickly allowed the third to join their bickering session. Elsewhere, three men sat trembling, ignoring the scarved man sitting next to them, who was smiling calmly. Farther down the table, a blond-haired, green-eyed man covered the ears of a girl with the same hairstyle, except she had a purple ribbon in her hair.

"Big brother? Why are you covering my ears?" she asked innocently.

"You don't need to be hearing what those people are saying," her brother replied, trying to ignore all the fun words being exchanged between the first three men who were mentioned. And not too far away, another man, with a double curl on the top of his head, was leaning back in his seat, snoozing through it all. Suddenly:

**"EVERYONE SHUT UP!"**

And that's exactly what everyone did. A few muttered, "Germany..." but otherwise nothing could be heard. They waited for his lecture... which never came. Instead, the blue-eyed, slicked back blond-haired man stated, "This meeting, Cuba has an important report to give, so could everyone please give their undivided attention to Cuba?"

A burly man with a red button down shirt stood, and everyone turned their eyes to him.

"Hello, I'm Cuba..." he started, stating the obvious. "I have come with some concerns of South America that could potentially spread to all of you if not dealt with soon."

A person with a hair curl on his left raised his hand nervously. "What is this... danger..?" he asked with worry dripping in every word.

"Cannibalistic puppies."

Everyone gasped. Then, the urgent muttering to one another. And finally the panic filled shrieks (even though the majority of the people at the meeting are _guys_).

"EVERYONE CALM DOWN, CUBA STILL NEEDS TO FINISH!" Germany bellowed. Once again, everyone shut up. But they kept their gaze on Cuba.

"So now we need to figure out how to solve this problem. I've talked to my boss, and he suggested violence," Cuba continued.

Some nodded, thinking about what Cuba just announced, while others wore looks of confusion upon their faces.

Once again, the left-curl raised his hand.

"Who's gonna figure this out?" he asked, a more noticeable Italian accent present. Few people murmured in agreement with him.

"We need someone who is strong, someone who is good with violence," Cuba declared. The trembling man sitting closest to the scarved man raised a sweaty-from-being-nervous hand slowly. "I th-think th-that-" he stuttered, but was cut off by a loud shout.

"GERMANY!"

Of course, it was the Italian. Germany sighed,

"Ja, vhat is it now, Italy?"

"No, I was nominating you!" Italy exclaimed matter-of-factly.

"Me? Really?!" Germany sounded surprised.

"Uh-huh," Italy nodded.

"Anyone else think they can do it?" Cuba demanded.

The nervous man lowered a trembling hand. However, the scarved man next to him abruptly stood up. The other two clearly nervous men groaned, "Oh no..." in unison.

"Da, I thinking I have potential for job," a strong Russian accent declared. He pulled out a faucet pipe and a pick ax and held them both with an innocent grin.

"Ah... maybe you're a bit... _too good_ for the job... maybe..." Cuba said.

"Oh, okay then!" the Russian sat back down.

Then a man with glasses and an aviator coat jumped up.

"Dudes! You should totally let me, the _hero_, deal with this one!" America declared loudly.

"Of course _you_ would say that..." sighed the Englishman.

"England, you always disagree with me!" America whined.

"That's because your _bloody_ ideas are _stupid_ as Hell!" England swore.

"Quit your lovers' spat~" the Frenchie sang.

"YOU SHUT UP!" America and England yelled at the same time. Soon the three went back to their bickering session.

Everyone else either sighed, facepalmed, or both.

"So, Germany, you are in charge of dealing with the problem on hand," Cuba decided, ignoring the fight going on a few feet away.

"I guess so, since no one else vill. I'll vork alone so no one gets hurt, since after all, I _am_ supposed to do this violently," Germany responded. Anyone who was still paying attention nodded in approval.

So, a lot more stuff happened, mostly arguments from America, England, and France, but a few minor discussions were made, then the meeting finally came to an end. The people, or countries, as you should now know, dispersed.


	2. The Great Depart

Germany slowly walked to his Kuberwagon, his two friends, Japan and Italy on either side of him.

"Germany? Hey! Hey, Germany! Germany~ Hey! Hey! Hey, Germany?" Italy kept repeating.

"Vhat do jou vant, Italy?" Germany asked.

"Can I drive the Kuberwagon? Please?!"

"No! Don't ret him drive it!" Japan pleaded.

"Relax, Japan... Nein, Italy... I don't need jou flying away again..." Germany answered. Japan sighed in relief and whispered, "Arigato." Italy frowned for a second, but quickly cheered up again.

"Hey, Germany! You're so lucky! You're so strong, you get to go fight! If it were me, I'd be scared pants-less!" Italy chattered. Japan listened, his face emotionless. Germany managed a small smile, though.

The three, also known as the Axis, climbed into the Kuberwagon and Germany drove Japan to his peaceful home, then drove to his and Italy's home.

When they finally got back, Italy rushed inside.

'_Odd..._' Germany thought since Italy doesn't often go that fast. He shrugged, then yawned. Germany realized he would need his rest for tomorrow. That's right; Germany decided to start as soon as possible. If the conditions were favorable, he would leave tomorrow.

Germany trudged into the house, into his bedroom, then fell asleep in his bed. Italy knew that Germany wanted to leave quickly, and so did Italy. Since Germany was going alone, Italy only had Japan. And the quicker Germany left, the quicker he'd be back.

Italy smiled, proud of his work. "There, all finished!" he exclaimed. He didn't know if he would wake in time to see Germany off (but he did set his alarm clock (like that means anything!)), so he wrote a letter for Germany. Then he climbed into bed next to Germany and quickly dozed off.

_Beep Beep Beep_~ Click- _BANG_! Smoke wisped around Germany's head thanks to his gun. He waved his hands in front of his face to clear the smoke. He didn't need to look over to see Italy sleeping peacefully next to him. He could hear the deep breathing and feel the warmth of the body next to him. A small smile tugged at Germany's mouth. "No training for jou for avhile," Germany whispered. He may have imagined it, but it looked like Italy smiled a little.

"Grazie..." Italy muttered in his sleep.

Germany carefully slid out of bed, put on his uniform, and trudged down the hall and into the kitchen. He silently decided to have sausages and eggs for breakfast. Germany pulled out the ingredients, and soon enough, sizzling could be heard and a magnificent aroma could be scented. Next, clattering of dishes rang out.

Germany sat alone at a desk, making a list of what he would need for his trip while eating. After he finished writing, he finished eating and washed the dishes. Then Germany went to get his travel bag. When he found it, the bag was bulging! Germany opened it, wary of dangers. Fortunately, it just had clothes, food, and a couple of white flags, along with a letter. Curiously, Germany lifted up the paper. It read:

_"Dear Germany,__  
__ Last night, I packed your bag. I packed the essentials; clothes, pasta, rice balls, sausages, water, and white flags. You never know when you'll need these!__  
__ Also, I wrote because I wasn't sure if I would get to see you off. If I don't, please don't die! Who would look after me?__  
__ I'll make lots of pasta for when you get back! And cheese! Oh, and sausages too! I'll get Japan to make you stuff also! I know you'll come back because you never want to miss out on the food!__  
__ Well, I don't know what else to say other than:__  
__ GOOD LUCK GERMANY!__  
__ See you around!__  
__ Your friend,__  
__ Italy Veneciano__  
__(P.S. Bring a puppy back! Please?)"_

Germany sighed with a faint smile. "Oh, Italy..." He folded the letter and placed it into his pocket. Germany eyed the mess in his bag and facepalmed. Italy probably just threw in the stuff he thought Germany would need.  
Germany sat down with the bag. He pulled everything out, then started folding the clothes neatly. Then he replaced everything so it fit nicely, and he had extra room. He grabbed some pistols and packed them with his stuff. He tossed the list he made during breakfast into the wastebasket. Germany closed the bag. He sat back down and went over what he would do.

"I vill need about a veek, possibly less, to deal with deal vith zhis problem. I have everything I vill need, so I guess I should leave now..." Germany grabbed some extra ammo, stuck it in his bag, and walked solemnly to the door.

"Goodbye," Germany bade farewell. He turned heel and tromped out the door. And Italy slept on.

Germany decided it would be quickest to take the Kuberwagon since South America is so far from Germany's house. He tossed the bag into the back seat and he climbed into the driver's side. Germany looked up at the house. Italy was at a window, waving furiously. No, not a flag, but his hand. Though, he's had good practice with flags. Germany simply waved back, started the engine, then pulled away.

"Bye Germany! See you!" Italy called from the window. Germany sighed. He would be back soon enough.


	3. Setting Up Camp

A few hours later, Germany pulled up to Cuba's house. He stepped out and meandered to the door and knocked.

"Yes, who is it?" a voice asked. It added in a darker tone, "And if you're that stupid America, I'll whoop your ass up..."

Cuba's face appeared as the door opened.

"Oh, Germany, welcome!" Cuba greeted, opening the door wider, allowing Germany into his home.

Germany stepped right in. "Danke," he said. Cuba just nodded.

After getting settled in Cuba's living room, the two countries started talking. Discussing the matter on hand. They both agreed that Cuba would provide Germany with a stilt-tent and, for a few nights, if he wanted, Germany could sleep in a spare bedroom.

"So, we're agreed," Germany stated, not asked.

Cuba nodded.

"Yes. Remember, violence can end puppy cannibalism. Don't hold back," Cuba reminded.

This time, Germany nodded.

"Got it."

"Good. Now go get some rest, and you can start tomorrow," Cuba ordered.

Germany stood up, saluted, and marched away. Cuba chuckled then went to his room.

The next morning, Cuba awoke to a delicious smell. The smell of a tropical breakfast. Cuba dressed quickly and found _Germany cooking_. Cuba, in shock, stepped over to Germany, put a hand on his shoulder, and asked,  
"Why are you cooking breakfast?"

"Because I felt I should repay jou for allowing me in jour house," Germany answered.

"It really isn't necessary," Cuba insisted.

"Vell, I'm cooking anyvays," Germany stated.

Cuba shrugged and went to the dining room to sit.

Well, what kind of tropical breakfast _is_ Germany cooking? Simple; grilled fruit-kabobs. Soon enough, Germany had the simple-yet-tasty steaming breakfast on a plate and served to Cuba.

"Thanks a lot Germany, this is amazing!" Cuba complimented, clearly pleased.

"Oh, it vas nothing," Germany replied. He smiled slightly as Cuba took a bite and started eating quicker. It was obvious that he really liked the grilled fruits. Germany himself had actually woken up an hour before and ate, explaining why he wasn't eating with the island nation.

"Mmm, Germany, you know how to cook a damn good meal!" Cuba declared. He chuckled a bit.

"Vhy, danke Cuba," Germany responded.

Cuba stood up, next to where Germany was standing.

"I guess it's time you were off. I shall get the tent for you," Cuba said. Germany nodded and waited as Cuba left.  
A few minutes later, Cuba returned with a wrapped up package, similar in appearance to what Japan carries his katana in. However, it was much thicker. Cuba stopped in front of Germany and held out the ready-to-be-built stilt-tent to him. Germany took it and lied it across his shoulders.

"I guess I'll be off," Germany announced. He turned around, picked up his bag, and left Cuba's home. Cuba did not do what Italy did. He just stood there thinking about the breakfast Germany had cooked.  
Nein, Germany did not drive, he walked to his destination. He didn't want puppy guts staining his Kuberwagon. That is the reason why Germany walked.

So, Germany walked and walked and walked. Suddenly, a little Dalmatian scurried past him. '_One of them..._' Germany thought darkly. Not long after, a little dachshund followed in pursuit. '_Ja, I vas right..._' Germany noted thoughtfully. '_I must be near..._'

Germany walked a bit farther, a few puppies running by now and then. Finally, he came to a halt. Not too far off, high-pitched howls could be heard. The bloodbath. So Germany set up the tent, then hoisted it up on stilts. He pre-connected the ladder, so he could climb up with no problem. The stilts were pegged down into the ground, plus a small fence surrounded the legs, so Germany wouldn't have to worry about the puppies knocking over the tent while he slept.

Germany climbed up warily, the worst case scenario playing in his mind. "Nein! It von't happen!" Germany scolded himself. He felt silly for thinking of that.

Eventually, Germany made it into the tent. Surprisingly, it was very sturdy, and it wouldn't budge when he jumped around. This made Germany feel much safer. So, he clambered back down, retrieved his bag, and the tarp that covered the unbuilt tent, and clambered back up. He tossed the bag aside, then folded up the tarp and placed it where he would be sleeping. Germany would use his bag as a pillow and the tarp as a blanket. Foremost, however, he would have to take out the food so it wouldn't get crushed.

So, Germany did just that. He pulled out the containers that Italy hand packed (and Germany re-packed) and examined them. He hoped that nothing spilled when he tossed the bag around. Fortunately for Germany, Italy used super-air lock containers for the food. This was another weight lifted from his shoulders.

_Grrrrrowllll~_ Germany sighed, realizing how hungry he was. He pulled out a rice ball and munched on it peacefully. 'It's_so quiet... I'm used to Italy jumping around being happy all the time..._' thought Germany. He smiled at the thought of his cheerful companion. He wished he had a means of communication with Italy, but sadly, he didn't. He had forgotten a simple thing like a phone.


	4. An Odd Dream and then Work

Germany finished his snack and returned the containers to his bag. Then he turned his serious face out the window and to the ground upon which cannibal puppies raced, chased, and ate each other. Germany shuddered at the sight.

I mean, the puppies weren't aggressively killing one another. No, they were peacefully killing each other, calmly eating one another. As if they were accepting they would eventually die. This is why Germany shuddered. And this is why Cuba's boss suggested violence. Because these puppies were peacefully cannibalistic.

Germany checked his watch, telling him it was 17:03 (5:03 pm for those too lazy to convert). He sighed, knowing it would get dark soon, so he set up his mock bed for later. Or perhaps now so he could get up early in the morning.  
So Germany went to sleep early that night. And he had quite an interesting dream. So very interesting...

_"Germany! Germany!" Italy called. A sense of urgency was on his tongue.__  
__ "Vhat is it now?" Germany sighed. __  
__ A Puppitalia stepped over to him. Germany looked over at the adorable dog form of Italy. He looked so cute, but if they were seeing (basically) eye to eye, then Germany must be a puppy too!__  
__ "It is time," Puppitalia remarked grimly.__  
__ "Huh?"__  
__ Suddenly, without warning, Puppitalia leapt at Germany. Germany ducked out of reflex and sprinted forward. __  
__ "You're one of them?!" Germany demanded.__  
__ The "Italy" didn't reply. He turned around and flew at Germany again. Germany ducked again, but not low enough. Italy rammed into Germany and made sure it hurt.__  
__ "ITALY! VHY?!" Germany screamed._

Germany bolted up. Sweating. Worried. After a moment, he realized that it was just a nightmare. He let out a whoosh of breath.

"Just a dream..." he reminded himself. He checked his watch. 3:42 was what it read. Germany yawned and went back to sleep.

6:00 sharp, Germany awoke. Time to get to work with these cannibalistic puppies. He pulled out a bunch of stuff he would need:

-His pistols  
-A bunch of land mines  
-Grenades  
-Dynamite  
-Pit spikes  
-Extra ammo  
-Matches

Germany was set. He put all the materials where he could get to them and left the tent by climbing down the ladder. Germany gripped the rungs tighter. Finally, when he was low enough, Germany jumped down to the ground. The sounds of gentle yelping and beautiful bone crunching were very audible. 'They do it peacefully... I don't understand...' Germany thought.

Germany stepped out of the fence. Rushes of fur flew past, not noticing the tall country standing there watching them. Germany got to work quickly. He planted land mines everywhere. He rigged dynamite. He dug pits and placed spikes. He shot a few puppies, then shot the puppies trying to eat the previously shot puppies. Then he ran back to his tent, throwing a grenade here or there.

Germany listened to the busy sounds of puppies dying. Nein, not from cannibalism. No, it was from the devices he set up. Spikes littered with guts, limbs flying from mines and dynamite, and the smarter puppies eating their freshly killed kin.


	5. Evil or Not

Germany ate some sausage and pasta, then couldn't stop twitching. He sighed in defeat, pulled out a gun, stuck it out the window, and shot down a poodle and a pug that evaded his traps. Germany gulped.  
It's dark, evil, to shoot innocent creatures. But they aren't innocent! They are cannibals! They must be dealt with and punished!

Germany realized this with an interesting grin. The only sound that could be heard for the next few moments were the gunshots from Germany's pistols.

Eventually, all the commotion died down. Germany realized he went a little too wild. It's like the gun controlled_him_. Kind of like Switzerland, almost. Nein, Switzerland has control. Germany would have to take the rest of the day off.  
He quickly placed his guns away. Then he sat on the tarp, calming his nerves.

"Food..." Germany reminded himself. However he wasn't very hungry. So, lackadaisically, he pulled out a sausage and cut it in half. He returned one half to the container and placed the other into his mouth. Smiling at the amazing taste, Germany munched slowly, savoring it. Then, he went to sleep again.

Once again, Germany woke up at six o'clock sharp. He stretched a bit, and then finished the other half of sausage. After that, he peered out the window. There were fewer puppies than when he arrived by about a third. Meaning two-thirds of the population still survived.

Sighing, Germany retrieved the materials he would need for the day. This was the stuff he didn't use the day before. Even though this was puppy _murder_ he was committing, puppy _cannibalism_ is much worse. It needed to be dealt with, and dealt with the right way.

_Violently._

Down the ladder, a bag of artillery strung over his shoulder, Germany climbed. Grinning wider and wider with each rung. Determination shining in his icy blue eyes. Thoughts rushing through his head. If he could get the puppies down by a third in a day, then tomorrow would be their end!

Germany stepped off the ladder, leapt over the fence, and quickly started setting new traps. Guts, limbs, blood, and corpses of puppies flooded the ground. The smell of rotting flesh was very present. Germany shrugged it off as he walked back to the tent. Shooting some puppies on the way.

When he got to the fence, he climbed over, even though the gate was less than a foot from his hand. Then he raced up the ladder, causing it to swing fairly hard. Into the tent Germany went. He grabbed a rice ball, wolfed it down, then checked the time. He was out later than he was expecting because it was already 19:33 (7:33 pm... jayzus, lazy people... why?). That would explain why it was dark out.

Bunking down, Germany dozed off. He dreamed of guns, sausages, and pasta shaped like dogs. _Weeeiiird..._


	6. Packing His Bags

Germany awoke a minute past six.

"SCHIESSE!" he spat. Waking up at 6:01?! That would not do at all!

He quickly ate some small sausage then, out of some whim, jumped out of the window (don't try this at home, kids!). Such a dangerous task. Yet, Germany made it look so simple. Plus, he landed on his feet. Skills~

Germany had his pack of stuff on him. He tossed grenades and didn't stop shooting his pistols. Every second, it seemed, another cannibalistic puppy fell.

After many hours of running around on a killing spree, Germany paused, breathing heavily. The stench of rotting flesh blew around. No puppies frolicked around like when he first arrived.

Quiet. Calm. Odor. Chaos. Death.

Violence.

It had definitely ended puppy cannibalism.

Germany lowered his ready guns. He sighed; the adventure came to an end. Wait! There it was again! A high-pitched bark! One still dared oppose Germany. Not for long.

Germany felt in his pockets for ammo. His hand brushed up against some folded paper. Italy's letter. Then Germany thought up an amazing idea. Since it was the last puppy, after all.

Smiling, Germany followed the sound of the barking. Soon, he came across a cute St. Bernard puppy. '_Perfect!_' Germany thought. He placed his pistols in his gun pouches, then picked up the fluffy dog like it was nothing but a mere potato sack. Which, basically, a puppy (depending on which breed) and a potato sack _did_ weigh the same. And Germany is _very _familiar with potato sacks. Being Germany and all...

Germany carried the St. Bernard back to the tent and placed it within the fence. It ran around in circles, clearly bored. Germany climbed the ladder, skipping rungs, pleased that he was able to deal with the situation quickly.

After he got into the tent, he ate all the pasta and had a bratwurst. Completely full and happy, Germany packed his stuff. He just then realized that he had used all of his supplies, besides the leftover ammo. '_Good,_' he thought. '_That means less stuff to carry back._' Germany checked his pockets to be sure. A grenade still ready to be used remained. He repocketed the round weapon and started unbuilding the tent from above his head.

Once the top of the tent was pulled down, he went to work on the walls. Finishing these was fast enough, so Germany climbed down the ladder. Then Germany misplaced his foot on the rung.

And Germany fell...


	7. What Happened!

On his butt! Ja, Germany was only one rung off the ground. Germany winced, stood up, and rubbed his sore bum. Nothing vital was damaged. Thankfully.

Thinking for a moment, then he returned to taking down the tent. The puppy stayed out of the way. The tent came down, and next, the stilts. They were neatly returned to the tarp that covered them. Germany put that on his back, picked up the puppy with one hand, and carried his bag in the other. Then, off he went, tromping back to Cuba's place!

After walking quite a bit, Germany finally stumbled upon Cuba's house. Literally! He was so exhausted, he tripped over a stone and fell on Cuba's porch. Of course, Cuba heard and checked to see what the clatter was about, and gleamed when he saw Germany. He dragged (literally, again) Germany into his house and set him on his sofa.

Germany was silent for a moment.

"Hey, Germany, thanks so much," Cuba thanked.

Germany nodded.

"It vas nothing. Now, I should get home," Germany announced.

"Alright. See you bro!" Cuba called as Germany walked away. Germany left the tent behind.

Germany's bag and St. Bernard were still on the porch. He sighed, picked the items up, and walked to the parked Kuberwagon. He tossed both items into the back. Then, he climbed into the front seat, turned on the engine, and pulled away. He sped home, almost driving like a true Italian.

Germany saw the house. Home! He drove faster. Then stopped. At last, he arrived. Germany was grinning from ear to ear. Now, time for Italy. He opened his mouth to call out for him, but as if it were a rehearsed scene, Italy waddled out. And stopped as soon as he noticed Germany.

"Germany! Vee~ You're back! And you brought a puppy! Yay!" Italy joyfully screamed.

Germany's grin grew wider still. He allowed the dog out, and it pranced over to the hetare Italia. Italy was clearly very happy.

"Grazie~" Italy stated, letting the puppy stand up, leaning on him for some support.

_Klik- Klik-_  
_ BANG! BANG!_

Smoke fizzed from the guns in Germany's hands. Italy froze in shock, his golden eyes wide open. The puppy, stiff, fell on top of Italy. Germany's eyes were narrowed, his grin never faltered. '_The last one..._' he thought.

"BANG BANG MUDDAFAHKAZ!" Germany screeched. "GERMANY IS HOME!"

Italy shoved the dead corpse off of himself, his eyes turning to normal.

"Wah! Germany! What happened?!" Italy cried out in confusion.

Germany replaced the guns and kept grinning. Finally, he gave a reply.

"Violence happened," Germany replied snarkily.

Italy shook with fear. Germany pulled out the grenade, ripped out the ring, and lobbed it at the ground.

"POOF BITCHES!" Germany yelled.

_BOOM!_


End file.
